


Class-V Planet

by mrhd



Series: Valentine Planet [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6008730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhd/pseuds/mrhd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: The Enterprise visits the planet 'Valentine' where everyone is romantic and gets Kirk in the mood...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Class-V Planet

**Author's Note:**

> For K/S Valentine 2016.
> 
> I wrote this with the TOS characters in my head, but I'm pretty sure that you can read it with the reboot characters in your own head instead if you prefer.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jim says.

“No, Sir,” Uhura says, even though her lips twitch in an aborted smile.

“And they’re really a people who value openness in regard to romantic and sexual relationships?”

Uhura grins at him. “They are.”

Jim grins back at her before looking back over his shoulder at his First Officer.

Spock just raises an eyebrow at him.

“What do you think about this, Mister Spock?”

“I believe that their distaste of violence will make them an invaluable asset to the Federation, especially as there are those who protest its militaristic tendencies.”

Jim tilts his head at Spock, raising both his eyebrows.

“I also believe that this planet will make for an interesting first contact,” Spock adds and Jim grins at him.

“I agree,” he says.

There’s an unusual amount of excitement surrounding the planet, and more volunteers for the away mission than Jim can remember there ever being. Eventually Jim says that, if the planet proves non-hostile and open to it, he’ll speak to Starfleet and try to arrange shoreleave on the planet.

Bones is the only one who flat out refuses to join the away team, the grump. So Jim takes Christine Chapel, just in case something happens (it usually does), along with Spock and Uhura.

They beam down in the middle of an open courtyard. Standing in front of them is the ambassador they’re supposed to speak to, wearing a robe that’s a deep, rich color of red. They welcome them in their native tongue, and Uhura responds in kind.

Fortunately, Uhura had been able to program enough of the language into their universal translators, and Jim feels comfortable enough joining in on the conversation, introducing himself, explaining the Federation, asking about the planet and its people. The ambassador is kind enough, open and welcoming, and the people who walk around them shoot only curious glances their way, along with the occasional smile.

Some of them aren’t paying attention to the new aliens in their midst at _all_. There’s lots of couples, and threesomes, and groups of various sizes engaged in various forms of PDA around them. Various states of nakedness abound too, clothes in colors ranging from deep red to light pink hang half off bodies or pool on the ground. Chapel seems unable to help grinning, and Spock, as blank and stiff as ever, still manages to give off the aura of shock and interest.

Overall, it’s one of the weirdest first contact negotiations they’ve had. Jim can honestly say that, despite everything the _Enterprise_ has encountered, he has never before discussed politics and the finer points of Federation membership while surrounded by numerous sparsely clad people in various stages of sex.

Eventually they get through the speech Starfleet wants Jim to give, and the ambassador looks excited about the prospect of more of the crew beaming down. It’s a simple manner to get Starfleet to agree to some shoreleave and it’s less than three hours before the crew starts going down to the planet.

* * *

 

“You know,” Jim says, “I can’t actually remember the last time an away mission went so well.”

“I hope you haven’t just jinxed us, sir,” Uhura says.

Jim knocks on the top of the bar he’s leaning against. It’s not wood, but he thinks it will do as a substitute. “If I have, I hope I’ve only jinxed myself.”

“If that is the case, perhaps the Lieutenant and I should take our leave of you, Captain,” Spock says, completely dry.

Jim and Uhura both laugh.

The bar they’re at had not only alcohol, but boxes of chocolate scattered around. Jim and Uhura had peer pressued Spock into eating some (“It’s essential to understanding the culture of Valentine’s!”) and now he actually has a slight flush across his cheekbones. It’s the third in a series of wins for Jim today: he’d gotten Spock to not only come down for some shoreleave (“Come on, Spock, don’t you want the chance to explore a new place?”) but to come down _out of uniform_. Spock may still be in his issued slacks and boots, but his shirt is a flowing black piece with small hints of silver along the seams. The straight, angled cut is obviously Vulcan design, and it suits Spock perfectly.

Jim can’t help reaching out and gently touching his fingers to Spock’s. It’s too subtle an action for most people to notice, but Spock takes a step closer to Jim and Uhura grins at him from behind Spock’s back.

“Well, boys,” she says, setting her empty drink on the table, “I think I’m going to see if I can’t drag Scotty away from his ship long enough for him to have some fun.”

“Hey, it’s my ship!” Jim protests out of habit.

“The _Enterprise_ is the property of Starfleet,” Spock points out.

Jim takes the chance and leans his arm against Spock’s, resting some of his weight on his First. “ _You_ know that _I_ know that you taking everything literally is all an act.”

Spock simply raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’m glad you came down with me,” Jim says.

“The experience has been pleasant,” Spock admits.

“Good,” Jim says, grinning at him. “You look good too. I don’t see you out of uniform much.”

“You see me out of my uniform fairly often, Captain,” Spock points out, raising an eyebrow.

Jim throws his head back and laughs. “I don’t see you in civvies very much, is that better?”

“More accurate,” Spock concedes.

“You’re impossible,” Jim says, picking up another chocolate and holding it in front of Spock’s mouth.

With a completely straight, serious expression, Spock tilts his head forward and bites the chocolate, his teeth grazing against the tips of Jim’s fingers before he leans back again and takes it fully into his mouth.

“Damn,” Jim whispers.

Spock waves the bartender over and gets Jim another drink, raising an eyebrow when he presents it to Jim.

Teasingly, Jim trails his fingers over Spock’s hand and his fingers, his touch no more than a brush, before he takes the glass and tilts his head back, taking a long sip. He watches Spock over the rim of the glass and sees Spock’s eyes flick downward, watching Jim’s throat as he swallows.

When he puts the glass down, Spock’s eyes are still dark and hooded. Jim can’t really tell in the dim light of the bar, but he thinks that Spock’s eyes are probably almost black by now, his pupils wide. Jim can feel the flush on his own skin, can see the dark green on Spock’s cheeks and ears. Things are getting heavy, fast, and, as demonstrative as Spock has been tonight, they’re not going to end up making out against a bar.

Jim straightens up and smiles at Spock. “Let’s get out of here,” he suggests, laying down a payment card.

Spock nods in agreement and Jim leads them out of the bar with a gentle touch on Spock’s wrist.

“Jim,” Spock says, when they’re in the cool air of the outdoors. “I have noticed that flowers seem to be as common as chocolate. Is that also a part of the Valentine’s experience?”

Jim grins at him. “Traditionally,” he says.

Spock looks at Jim in the way he does when he’s thinking, so Jim waits patiently for him to speak again.

“Am I right in assuming that tradition dictates that one purchase flowers and chocolate for their romantic partner?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Do you wish for me to purchase such things for you?” Spock asks, his words almost rushed.

Jim can’t help the way his heart thumps and his stomach swoops. Sometimes Spock is unbearably sweet. He gives Spock a soft smile and rests a hand against his arm. “No,” he says. “You show me you care in your own ways, and that’s good too. In fact, I like it.”

“I do wish you to know of my regard for you,” Spock says.

“I do,” Jim assures him.

“It has passed midnight on ship’s time,” Spock says, apparently apropos of nothing.

“Is it?”

“It has now been one-hundred ship’s days since you first approached me with your romantic intentions.”

Jim smiles at him. “You’ve been counting the days?”

Spock nods. “Of course.”

“See? You _are_ romantic,” Jim points out.

Spock tilts his head, obviously considering what Jim’s said. “I understand that humans usually use months as markers of such things, but I feel that one-hundred is a significant number nevertheless.”

“It is,” Jim agrees.

“Then I will wish you a happy anniversary, Jim,” Spock says in complete earnest, before lifting his first two fingers.

Jim smiles at him and brushes his first two fingers against Spock’s. “Happy anniversary, Spock.”

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel is a porn follow-up. I thought that Valentine's Day called for some porn-free fluff.


End file.
